Just a cough
by Richefic
Summary: Christmas is one of the busiest times of the year at NCIS. They are already short handed and last thing Tony needs is to get sick. A post SWAK belated holiday story. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer. If I did own them the Y-Pestis would have come back to haunt Tony long before now.

AN – If anyone is still patient enough to be waiting for the next instalment of 'trial and tribulation' this story is by way of an apology, I had intended to update that over Christmas, but all Tony's symptom's in this story are taken from my personal experiences over the holiday season. I have not abandoned 'trial' and will update as soon as I can write enough not to leave people hanging between updates. In the meantime, this story is pretty near complete and will be posted at regular intervals.

* * *

The most worrying part was that there was no particular reason behind it. No accidental dunking in the icy cold Potomac. No midnight chase through a blizzard wearing only a thin jacket and expensive shoes. Just the usual long tiring days, turning into relentless, exhausting, weeks as the winter dragged on. As they moved into December the twinkling Christmas decorations seemed to mock them with a promise of rest and respite, which never arrived.

"Wow, somebody's on a sugar high."

Tony paused in unwrapping another candy to glance questionably up at Abby and then down at the pile of candy wrappers littering his desk. He wondered when his throat had become so dry and scratchy that it demanded the constant supply of saliva,

"You know, sugar is .."

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by the sound of his desk phone. Casting Abby an apologetic look, he scooped it up out of its cradle. As he went to tuck the receiver under his chin, Abby leant forward and plucked the unwrapped candy from his fingers, smirking at Tony's outraged look.

"Yes, sorry, I'm here…"

Forced to turn his attention to the call, Tony had to content himself with making faces at Abby as he opened his drawer and fished out the relevant file. Feeling the dryness in his throat, his other hand crept almost unconsciously inside the bag of candy, his fingers freezing in shock when they met empty air.

"What? No, I wanted .."

The cough took him by surprise, his eyes widening slightly, as he launched a fine spray of spittle over the mouthpiece. The hollow sound echoing, dry and painful, across the bullpen. Shaking his head slightly, he opened his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by another cough and then another. The voice echoing tinily in his ear was abruptly silenced as Abby grabbed the receiver.

"He'll call you back." She slammed down the phone and pressed a bottle of water into his hands. "Here. Drink."

Tony unscrewed the lid and took a grateful swallow, feeling the cool liquid trickle down his parched throat, easing the tightness in his chest.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Abby frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Its just you were coughing." Abby bit her lip.

The shadows lurking in her eyes reminded him of the first time she had come to visit him in Bethesda, holding Gibbs' hand so hard her knuckles were chalk white as she chewed nervously on a strain of hair, knowing that her beloved science had only given him a 15 percent chance of survival, but desperately trusting that Gibbs' gut knew best and he wasn't going to die.

"Its just a cough, Abs."

"It had better be, Mister."


	2. Chapter 2

Taking refuge in the head, Tony gripped the sink hard with both hands as he glanced up and looked at himself in the mirror. Under the harsh fluorescent lighting his face looked pale and gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. Shifting his waistband slightly, he knew that he had lost a few pounds recently and the couple of Tyronel he had taken that morning had done nothing to ease his aching bones and rising temperature.

"Oh my, Abby was right. You do look dreadful my boy."

Shifting his gaze slightly, Tony met the elderly MD's eyes in the mirror.

"Its been a long day, Ducky."

"On top of a long week and an even longer month," Mallard wasn't giving any ground. "When was the last time you got more than four hours sleep a night, _away_ from the office?"

"Its not like you can tell a serial killer to hold on while you take a nap."

"So, you rarely slept, barely ate and pushed yourself so hard that Jethro was quite concerned. And now that bastard is safely behind bars your body is rightfully demanding that you give it the rest that it so sorely needs."

"What it needs to get back to work, Duck. We caught another case this morning," Tony paused. "Gibbs was worried about me?"

"Your bout with the Y-Pestis scared him more than he is wiling to admit. Even to himself."

A dark red flush swept across Tony's cheeks that had nothing to do with his present fever. Biting the inside of his cheek he forced his tone to be smooth and even.

"I'm not some hot house flower, Duck. I can still do my job."

"Anthony, no-one is doubting your ability as an Agent," Ducky soothed. "You more than anyone have shouldered the extra work, while Ziva is temporarily absent. And kept young Timothy focused through the worse of Watson's more gruesome handiwork. Jethro only worries because he cares."

Tony closed his eyes briefly as he remembered the fierce determination in Gibbs' voice at Bethesda as he had _ordered_ him to live. The times during his week in the Hospital, when he would wake up in the middle of the night, to find his Boss sitting by his bed doing paperwork, or when he was finally discharged, the way he would call by bearing pizza or Chinese, and stay until Tony had eaten at least half of what was on his plate.

"Its just a cough, Duck."

"For now," The MD fixed him with a firm gaze. "Without proper care these things can easily escalate."

"I promise to drink tea with honey in it and not over exert myself bugging McGee." Tony vowed solemnly.

"You'll go down to Abby's lab and sleep for the next hour on her futon," Ducky held up a finger as Tony went to protest. "Gibbs will be tied up with the Director for at least that long and McGee is perfectly capable of monitoring the data search without your assistance."

Tony's agile mind had already begun to consider the possibilities. If he took a nap, he could get Ducky off his back and he would be able to stay late and go through Sheridan's financial records. It was a win, win, situation. All he needed to do was feign reluctance and no-one would be any the wiser.

"Do you want me to call Jethro down here to make it an order?" Ducky threatened.

Letting his shoulders slump in apparent defeat, Tony gave a sigh and pulled open the door, feeling the MD's eyes on him, as he made his way towards the elevator. Not until the doors were safely closed did he allow himself to slump against the metallic wall.

He really didn't feel so good.


	3. Chapter 3

AN. Thank you all so much for the kind reviews. They really encourage me to keep on writing. Here are the next instalments.

* * *

The nap didn't help as much he had hoped it might. So, he simply pretended that it had and redoubled his efforts to _look _well. tugging rakishly at his tie and flirting with Sandra from records until McGee blushed a bright red at their innuendo and ducked for cover behind his computer terminal, determined to ignore anything and everything related to one Anthony DiNozzo.

Which was exactly the way Tony wanted it.

Sipping almost continuously from a bottle of water, he managed to keep the worst of the coughing at bay. Chewing gum created a continuous stream of saliva, which helped to soothe his irritated throat. Another couple of swiftly palmed pills took the edge off his aches and pains and by the time he had finished looking over search McGee had done on Dr Sheridan he could almost convince himself that he felt well.

Almost.

"I think I have something." McGee ventured cautiously.

"Cooties?" Tony hazarded.

"On Dr Sheridan," McGee clarified. "Take a look at this."

Bracing himself for the effort, Tony struggled to rise to his feet with his usual grace, his aching body protesting every move. He was grateful that Gibbs was still in MTAC and that McGee's attention remained fixed on his computer screen. God help him if he had to chase down a suspect today, right now he wasn't entirely sure if he could make it to the parking garage.

"What have you got, Probie?"

Afterwards, he was never quite sure if it was the moving or the speaking that set him off. Too late, he recognised the irritation in the back of his throat and realised that his bottle of water was still on his desk. Too far away. With a painful, barking sound, his windpipe rebelled, causing the loud, staccato whoops of his coughing to echo across the bullpen.

"Are you alright?" McGee frowned.

"Just .. peachy." Tony managed, as he began to get his breath, waving away the younger Agent's concern.

"Are you sure?" McGee looked worried. "You sounded a little rough."

"Its just a cough, Probie."

"Still, perhaps you should get it checked out before it turns into something worse. Remember how Dr Pitt said you would be more vulnerable to influenza, pulmonary infections, respiratory distress .."

"Probie!"

In his exasperation, Tony breathed a little too deeply and broke into a second round of coughing, which, this time he manfully tried to stifle, turning almost purple in his efforts and ending with an ominous gurgling sound.

"Maybe, you should sit down?" McGee suggested, standing up solicitously to offer his help.

"What are you? My Mother?" Tony backed away from his concern, stumbling slightly as he did so, so that he had to reach out and steady himself on a filing cabinet. "I'm fine."

"You already had the plague once." McGee reminded him unhappily.

"Up close and personal," Tony agreed, lowering his voice menacingly as he stepped forward again into McGee's personal space. "Which is why I know that _this _isn't a life threatening illness. Now, can we get back to work?"

McGee swallowed hard, if he went up against DiNozzo when he was in this mood, he didn't even want to think about the many and varied ways the man would make his life a misery. Nodding vigorously, he seated himself back at his desk, ducking his head. Then, suddenly, a small smile hovered around his lips. As his Grandmother used to say, there was more than one way to skin a cat.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next hour Tony sat hunched over his desk, the tension in his shoulders, nothing to do with his present ailment. McGee was still a rookie when it came to undercover work and the moment when he had decided to 'give in' had been lit up over his head like a light bulb. Now Tony was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be Abby's black platform boots, Ducky's leather loafers or …

"McGee's right. You look like crap, DiNozzo."

"You know, Boss, you should really think about yanking his security clearance." Tony sniped.

Gibbs merely eyed him urbanely over the rim of his coffee cup.

"You _tell _him not to tell me?"

Across the bullpen Tony was aware of other Agents raising their heads at Gibbs' dangerously quiet tone. Only to duck back down behind their partitions, absurdly glad that they weren't the ones in the firing line. Tony merely raised his head and looked his Boss straight in the eye.

"Its Just A Cough." He hissed, his voice low and menacing.

"If you say so." Gibbs didn't even blink.

Tony summoned the energy to glare at him, which simply made the corner of Gibbs' mouth quirk. Tipping his head on one side, Tony decided to deflect attention from himself onto the case.

"Got into Sheridan's files, Boss. Turns out he's been selling spare parts on the internet and I'm not talking hub caps here."

"He's been farming his patients for organs?" Gibbs raised a brow. "Explains why his victims are always young, single, men. No contact with their families."

"No-one to ask any awkward questions when they need to loose the occasional kidney or donate some bone marrow for good ole Uncle Sam," Tony agreed. "You know, Boss, what we need is to get close to him, take a look at his patient records .."

"No way in hell, DiNozzo."

"C'mon Gibbs, its perfect," Tony badgered. "I fit the profile perfectly .."

"You forgetting something, DiNozzo?" Gibbs leant over his desk, until he and Tony were eyes to eye and spoke very softly. "I'm your legal next of kin, someone has their eye on one of your kidneys I want to know about it, understood?"

Tony's expression softened at the heartfelt message, for a man who was not good with words, Gibbs never seemed to have any trouble making his feelings crystal clear. Tony might be estranged from his blood relations but he wasn't alone in this world. Taking advantage of Gibbs' paternal mood, DiNozzo flashed him a cocky grin.

"Is that a yes, Boss?"

Gibbs gave him an assessing look and Tony swallowed nervously, uncomfortably aware of the slight flush to his cheeks and the tightness in his chest as he struggled to breath without sparking another coughing fit.

"Grab your gear." Gibbs rolled his eyes.

Sometimes with DiNozzo it was easier to just give in. At least, if he gave permission he could be there to watch his six. As Gibbs veered off to collect his own piece from his drawer, Tony reached for his Sig and shoulder to shoulder they made their way to the elevator. Gibbs reached out and pressed the call button, before giving Tony a sideways glance.

"DiNozzo, its 8 degrees below outside, where's your dammed coat?"


	5. Chapter 5

As they rode the elevator to the parking garage, Gibbs gave the younger man a covert glance. Even bundled up inside his coat, DiNozzo still had his arms unconsciously wrapped around himself as if he was cold, despite the pick spots of fever in his cheeks. His breathing was thin and shallow, like he was desperately trying not to cough. Sure enough, as soon as they left the warmth of the building and hit the colder air of the parking garage Tony was almost bent double with the force of his coughs, waving an irritated hand to forestall Gibbs' narrow eyed gaze.

"Don't .. say.. it." He panted.

"Wasn't gonna." Gibbs assured him as he unlocked the car and climbed into the driving seat, watching DiNozzo's careful movements as he climbed into the passenger seat and gave his Boss a frank look.

"I know. I look like crap, right?"

"If you say so." Gibbs turned the ignition and put the car into gear.

After Tony's battle with the plague Kate, McGee and even Ducky had all remonstrated with Gibbs about the wisdom of allowing DiNozzo to return to work so soon, but Gibbs had understood Tony's need to be 'normal' again. And in sharing the caseload between Kate and McGee whilst ordering Tony to lie down or eat something, the ex-gunny had been taking care of him in his own way. He could read DiNozzo well enough to see that he was still this side of functional and so long as he was, then work was the best place for him.

For now.

"Its just a cough." Tony read his thoughts.

"You just keep on saying that," Gibbs offered as he steered around the corner. "Maybe, you'll even start to believe it."

They drove a couple of blocks in silence, Tony's usual patter silenced by the need to breathe in and out without coughing. Despite, his soft, shallow breathes, the occasional huff still made it past his pursed lips. Gibbs made no comment as he pulled the car over to the kerb.

"Stay put."

Tony sank lower in his seat, watching through the windshield as his Boss turned his collar up against the cold and double-timed it into the coffee shop. He took advantage of Gibbs' absence to crank the heating up a notch or two. For forms sake he reached out and fiddled a little with the radio, but his heart wasn't really in it. Leaning back he closed his eyes and tried not to think about how sick and tired he felt.

"Here."

The cup of hot tea that materialised in front of his eyes made him wonder if he had dozed off.

"Thanks, Boss."

Cracking the lid, he breathed in the soothing warm steam, before taking a blissful sip, feeling the fragrant liquid slip over his sore throat and trickle down into his aching chest. Reluctantly, he went to replace the lid. Drinking any hot beverage when Gibbs was driving was never a good idea. Which was why he mostly stuck to sodas. That and the noises he could make with the straw, which always annoyed the hell out of his co-workers.

"Finish it."

Looking over, Tony realised that Gibbs was sipping calmly at his coffee and showed no signs of starting the car.

"What about Sheridan?"

"His shift isn't over for another four hours. He'll keep," Gibbs looked pointedly at the cup, waiting until Tony complied by taking a sip, before continuing. "You be able to fly with your lungs like that?"

"Insurance companies are so twitchy. You'd think having survived the plague I'd be a safe bet," Tony argued. He and one of his frat buddies, who had recently divorced, had organised a holiday break in Las Vegas. Except that, since he had recovered from the plague insurance of any kind had become a mind field. "I mean, how many of their clients can say that? I'm practically indestructible!" Tony ruined the effect of his self-righteous tirade by ending it with a bout of coughing so severe Gibbs had to reach out and steady the hot tea before he scalded himself.

"You think I'll get a refund?" Tony asked ruefully.


	6. Chapter 6

Truth be told, just walking through the halls of a Hospital made Tony feel nervous. The very sound and scent of the hallways conspired to make him think he was getting sicker. He tried to remember why he had thought this was a good idea and focus on the case.

"_Go work your charm on the nurses, lover boy," Gibbs had directed. "Let's see what we can find out."_

"_On them, Boss." Tony had attempted his best lady killer grin._

_Gibbs had merely snorted in reply, although his eyes had glinted with amusement. _

As he turned the corner to the nurses' station, he straightened his shoulders slightly and managed a genuine smile. He would have to be a whole lot sicker than this not to be attracted to the elfin-faced brunette behind the desk.

"Hi there, my name is Anthony DiMarco. My doctor's office called ahead?"

"We're expecting you, Mr DiMarco Dr Sheridian is with another patient at present. He'll just be a moment."

"Well, while we're waiting why don't we talk about you?" He pulled out his most dazzling smile. "How long have you worked here?"

She dimpled prettily.

Three minutes later, he had all the information he needed and he hadn't even had to flash his badge or get so much as a shot. He felt like doing a victory dance right here in the hallway. Even feeling like crap he was still on top of his game. He couldn't wait to tell Gibbs. He might even get an 'atta boy"

"Thanks, Francine, you've been a great .."

He broke off to huff in small forceful breaths, trying desperately to keep the painful, deep lung wrenching coughs at bay.

"Are you alright?" Francine placed a concerned hand on his arm.

"I'm fine, I just .." Tony broke off as he lost the battle to control his breathing and had to reach out and steady himself against the wall as his body succumbed to lung wrenching coughs and dark red spots began to swim before his eyes as his oxygen levels depleted. Feeling his stomach muscle flex and clench he struggled to expel the phlegm deep in his lungs as pounding feet echoed in his ears.

"Grab a bowl!"

The unfamiliar voice was the only warning he got before a hand gripped his shoulder tightly, steadying him for the blow, low and hard, between his shoulder blades, causing the gunk to loosen as Tony gagged and spat. When it was over Francine looked up from the contents of the bowl to the man hovering at Tony's elbow, with a worried expression on her face.

"It looks like this is infected, Dr Sheridan."

Tony blinked hard, trying to clear his vision of the involuntary tears that his exertions had forced into his eyes, feeling the raw pain of his abused windpipe and an overwhelming exhaustion. Looking up at her over the edge of the bowl he tried to smile.

"Is this a good time to ask if you are free for dinner?"


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs looked at his watch for the third time in less than five minutes. DiNozzo had been gone for over an hour and his gut was growing uneasy. The younger man was a natural undercover, but nothing in their job was ever without risk. Suddenly, he straightened as a familiar figure dressed in nothing but a Hospital gown ran barefoot across the street, dodging the traffic as he headed towards the car. Acting quickly, Gibbs had the engine turning over and the car in gear by the time DiNozzo grabbed the door handle and all but threw himself into the car.

"Drive!"

The car sped off even as he collapsed into the passenger seat and reached over his shoulder for the seatbelt. Gibbs didn't take his eyes off the road as he asked tersely.

"What happened?"

"Sheridan wanted to admit me. Or maybe he just wanted my Dolce Gabbana shirt and Gucci shoes. Damn it. That's the best part of $700 I'm never gonna see again."

"Better than being down a kidney," Gibbs spared his Agent a brief glance as he negotiated the traffic. He was almost grey with fatigue, his sunken cheeks looking thin and hollow. "You okay?"

"Well, they took about an armful of blood," Tony tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Then they jabbed me with a dozen other needles, just for the fun or it and zapped me with enough radiation to light up a small town. If I wasn't sick before I sure as hell am now."

For a moment, Gibbs was distracted from the investigation, if Sheridan had felt DiNozzo had needed that level of medical intervention, perhaps there was more to his condition than met the eye.

"You stick around for the results?" He kept his tone light.

"I got Nurse Francine's phone number," DiNozzo kept his eyes closed but a thin smile hovered around his lips. "But I'm guessing that's not what you meant."

"I dunno. Proves you're still breathing." Gibbs allowed himself a smile.

"Funny, Boss," Tony coughed. "Real funny."

Gibbs frowned at the wet, gurgling sound, before reaching into the rear seat to snag a blanket and drop it into DiNozzo's lap, causing one green eyes to pop open in surprise.

"Boss, I'm fine."

"Just making sure you stay that way," Gibbs assured him. "You get anything on Sheridan?"

Tony grinned, as he settled under the blanket. Gibbs recognised his most satisfied expression. The one that said he had more intel than Ziva, more data than McGee and a better sense of the hinky than Abby. Gibbs felt a flicker of pride. Even sick and not firing on all cylinders there was a reason DiNozzo was his senior field agent.

"Sheridan's going to jail for a long, long, time." Tony gloated.


	8. Chapter 8

As he approached the next intersection, Gibbs didn't even pause, as he indicated and took a right. It was testament to how sick and tired DiNozzo was feeling that it took him a full five seconds to respond.

"Um, Boss? You missed the turn. The office is that way."

"I know."

Tony looked down at his bare feet and legs, streaked with mud, sticking out of a Hospital gown too short to preserve his dignity. Giving it a tug, he frowned, the lines making a worried crease in his forehead.

"And my apartment is straight on."

"Know that too, DiNozzo."

"Boss," Tony struggled to swallow over a dry throat. He hated this. He hated the way his chest tightened when he tried to take a breath. He hated how his head ached and his arm was sore where they had taken bloods. "I've just spent the last hour being picked like a pin cushion by Dr Frankenstein. It's just a cough. I'm begging you, no more Hospitals."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Alright," Tony nodded sagely, as if he had known that all along, even as the tightness in his chest loosened a little. "So, where are we going?"

"My place."

Tony tried to formulate a response to that. They were still on the clock. There was a psycho doctor running around out there stealing body parts and Gibbs was taking him to his place, where there was a big, deep, bathtub, long enough for him to stretch out in blissful pleasure, soft fluffy towels, crisp, clean cotton sheets and old t-shirts and sweats washed to unimaginable softness. Just the thought of it was comforting. But he forced himself to ask.

"What about Sheridan?"

"I already called McGee to bring him in while you were asleep," Gibbs informed him. "He's cooling his heels in interrogation as we speak."

"Oh," Tony blinked. He had no memory of falling asleep. "That's .. good?"

Gibbs gave him an unreadable look and Tony flinched slightly, trying to work out what it was he had or hadn't done. Abruptly, Gibbs took his right hand off the wheel and placed it on Tony's brow. The cool, firm pressure was ridiculously comforting and Tony had to shift his gaze to look out of the window to avoid embarrassing himself as a lump rose in his throat. Only to almost knock himself out on the glass as Gibbs removed his hand and twisted the car 180 degrees, to the blaring of many horns as he sped back in the direction of the office.

"Boss?"

Gibbs spared him a brief, intense, glance.

"You're burning up."


	9. Chapter 9

AN – Many many thanks for all your kind reviews and comments, I just try to write stories that I would like to read but it is both heartening and encouraging to know that other people enjoy them also.

* * *

Gibbs hovered in the shadows behind the glass wall and watched his senior field agent, as Tony sat hunched on the autopsy table. As Ducky had helped the younger man out of the hospital gown into a t-shirt and sweats he'd been shocked at how much weight DiNozzo had lost recently. Now he pursed his lips, thinking of all the all-nighters they had pulled in the last month alone, fuelled by nothing more nutritious than pizza. Ducky was going to kill him when he found out he'd let DiNozzo get so sick.

"Its just a cough." Tony was protesting.

"And this is just a precaution." Dr Pitt soothed as he looked at the temperature on the thermometer without a flicker of expression.

"I can't believe they got you to make a house call," Tony's tone was equal parts annoyance and admiration. "Its not like I'm dying or anything."

"Your Boss was very persuasive." Pitt dug around in his bag.

"Oh yeah, he's a real silver tongued devil," Tony observed ironically. "You know, he can't really shoot you, right?"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Pitt observed dryly. He had got to know Tony's boss pretty well while his Agent was in Bethesda and even better while Tony was convalescing at home. He didn't think there was many things that Special Agent Gibbs wouldn't do where DiNozzo's welfare was concerned. He doubted that there were many people to whom the ex-gunny would say 'please' which such total sincerity. He also didn't figure that the Marine would appreciate his sharing that particular titbit. "Besides, you're still my star patient. Don't you read any of those medical journal articles I e-mail you?"

"Do I look like McGee?" Tony eyed his stethoscope warily. "You better have warmed that thing."

"I had Nurse Emma do it for me." Brad waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Liar." Tony countered without heat as he let Brad lay the cool metal onto his chest.

"Any trouble breathing?"

"Only when I cough." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Alright, breath in for me. Deep as you can."

The hesitation was so slight, most people would have missed it. Gibbs straightened slightly, as he caught the brief flash of uncertainty in Tony's eyes as he cautiously opened his mouth to comply._ He knows._ Gibbs realised with sudden dread. _He knows its going to be bad. _The full minute and a half of wet wheezing coughs, as Tony fought to breathe and to expel the mucus that was clogging his fragile lungs did nothing to calm his fears. Instead, each pained gasp stoked his concern as his Agent visibly struggled to regain control.

"Alright," Brad was the first to break the echoing silence when he was finally done. "That didn't happen overnight. How long have you been feeling run down?"

"It's just a cough," Tony defended his actions. "I was much sicker in the second grade when .."

"How long Anthony?" Ducky insisted.

For a moment Gibbs thought he was going to defy them. His eyes went mutinous and his shoulders straightened slightly as if preparing for a fight, then Ducky leant forward and said something so softly that he couldn't hear the words.

But he could read his lips.

"Just a couple of days," Tony looked miserable. "Honest."

"Aching muscles, elevated temperature, streaming cold and general fatigue?" Brad hazarded.

"Maybe." Tony hedged.

"I'd like to take an X-ray. Run a couple of tests," Brad suggested. "If they come back clear then you're good to go."

"And if they don't?" Tony asked darkly.

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?" Ducky patted his shoulder comfortingly.

* * *

The news wasn't as bad as it might have been. But it wasn't entirely good either.

One of the things Gibbs had always most admired about DiNozzo was his tenacity. Once the man got his teeth into something he never let go. He'd worry at it like a dog at a bone until he found out what he wanted to know. It was one of the things that made him a top-notch investigator. It also made him as stubborn as hell.

"Sick leave?" Tony gawped.

"Anthony, this is the first time you've been sick since your lungs were compromised," Ducky attempted to explain. "We have no idea how this chest infection might affect you. We would rather not take any chances until we see how this virus develops."

"Ducky, Gibbs came into work two days after he took a bullet in his shoulder, Kate toughed it out through her root canal, even McGee stayed on the job when he had that poison ivy thing, but you're sending me home because of a few teeny tiny microbes?"

"DiNozzo, last time those microbes went wacko and nearly killed you."

"C'mon, Boss, we're already short handed and you know how crazy it always gets over the holidays. You need me."

Gibbs stepped up and grasped the younger man by the jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes as he spoke very softly. "Tony, I don't care if we are invaded by little green men, we will handle it. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. You go home, get some sleep, take your pills, eat some soup or something and don't even think about setting foot in the building until the New Year. Understood?"

"A week?" Tony blanched. "Gibbs, I don't need a week."

"Your lungs say otherwise, DiNozzo." Gibbs gave his cheek a pat, as he stepped back.

"Boss, please," Tony was pleading now. "I just need a couple of days. Tops."

Gibbs kept his face impassive as he hardened his heart. In truth he was worried that he was at least partly to blame for this. Maybe, it had been a mistake to let himself be talked into allowing DiNozzo to return so quickly after his brush with the plague. As team lead he should have insisted that he took the full complement of sick leave. If he had, maybe the younger man would have had greater reserves to fight this dammed bug now.

"Keep this up, DiNozzo and I'll make it a fortnight."

Tony looked up, his eyes wide with shock. The thought of spending the holidays all-alone in his apartment made him utterly miserable. A fortnight would be unbearable. Looking away, he schooled his expression, not wanting anyone to see how much that prospect upset him. Forcing a neutral tone he made his voice bland and unconcerned.

"You should probably be getting back upstairs to interrogation, before Sheridan starts getting ideas about McGee and a nice Chianti."

"He was selling the organs, DiNozzo, not eating them." Gibbs correctly dryly, reaching out his hand so that the younger man tensed in anticipation of the expected head slap.

The quick, affectionate, squeeze of his neck before he was left alone almost undid him.


	10. Chapter 10

AN - So many thanks for the reviews, I have to admit I enjoy hurting Tony more than is really healthy for either of us, but I also have a predisposition towards happy endings .. just not right away!

* * *

It wasn't as if no one cared.

McGee had told the local LEO's his designer clothes were evidence, gravely presenting each item to him carefully bagged and tagged like some kind of werid criminologist dry cleaners, before heading back up to the bullpen. Abby had kissed his fevered brow, leaving a perfect black bow on his forehead, as she stuffed his pockets full of candies for his sore throat, all the while chatting brightly about how she would call round bearing popcorn and pizza just as soon as she could get away from her present crushing workload. Ducky had insisted on shepherding the younger man to his own vintage Morgan, to ensure that the younger man made it safely home, leaving him with the remote in one hand and his pills in the other and a promise to call and check up on him between autopsies.

They were busy catching the bad guys.

He could understand that.

He tried watching a movie, but James Stewart and Henry Travers just reminded him of the difference he wasn't making, just laying here on the couch. He peered at the bottle of pills, scowling at the instructions to take with or after food, before putting them down on the coffee table in disgust. He couldn't face even trying to eat anything right now. The constant action of coughing made him feel like he wanted to gag all the time and the continuous action of spiting or swallowing the gunk his lungs were producing made him feel sick to his stomach.

Feeling utterly miserable he crawled into bed, shivering slightly as he stretched out, trying to use his body heat to take the chill off the crisp cotton sheets. If he was honest with himself, something he usually tried to avoid, between his dry scratchy throat, his pounding head and his sore muscles, sleep was all his was good for right now. Except, every time he was on the brink, another coughing fit would startle him awake. He lay there in some misery until exhaustion finally overcame him and he fell into a fitful sleep.

The dream was by now a familiar terror. Even when he felt totally well he never knew when the spectre of not being able to take in enough oxygen would come back to haunt him. It was always the same. The world was normal. But in a macabre twist on Keanu Reeves in the Matrix, he had neither mouth nor nostrils. Unable to breath he could do nothing except wait with mounting panic, for the moment when the reserves of oxygen inside his body ran out, writhing helplessly until he passed out, never to wake up again.

Of course, he always woke up before that actually happened.

So far.

"Tony, wake up!"

The sharp command, coupled with the firm shake of his shoulder brought him crashing back to reality, his eyes snapping open, wide and terrified, drinking in the familiar sights of his bedroom, feeling the sheets beneath him, twisted and soaked with cold sweat, the room softly lit by the light spilling from the hallway through the partly open doorway and the heavy wieght of someone sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Easy. Just breathe."

In better times, Tony had joked that that sounded like he was at a Lamaze class. This was not one of the better times. Tony closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively, acutely aware that he was shaking under Gibbs hand, the tremors running through him in shuddering waves as he came down from the adrenalin high.

"Little .. late for you to be .. out, isn't it, Boss?" He managed, without opening his eyes. "Hot date?"

"You could say that," Gibbs reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light, watching Tony wince slightly as the light hit his eyeslids. "Brunette, so tall, kinda a worry."

"One of these high maintenance types, huh?" Tony's breathing steadied and he risked opening his eyes. "Maybe, you oughta kick 'em into touch. Trade 'em in for a better model. Something with a few less miles on the clock and a better warranty."

"Not a chance," Gibbs continued talking as he rose and went first to the dresser to pull out a thick jumper and then to the wardrobe to pull out Tony's favourite jeans before throwing both items at DiNozzo, who caught them slightly clumsily. "You don't get shot of me just because you get sick, one time."

Still feeling a little shaky, Tony swung his legs around avoiding Gibbs' gaze as he busied himself pulling on the jeans. All he could think about were the covert worried glances, which had passed between Ducky and Brad. _We have no idea how this chest infection might affect you._

"What if it isn't just this one time, Boss?"

* * *

Gibbs opened the door and hit the switch, flooding the hallway with yellow, welcoming light. Behind him he could hear Tony breathing slightly raggedly, as he closed the front door behind him and hovered with uncharacteristic uncertainty on the threshold.

"Make yourself at home."

Purposefully ignoring the younger man's slow, awkward movements as he hung up his coat and sank down on the stairs to unlace his shoes, Gibbs headed into the kitchen. By the time Tony joined him he had a fresh pot of coffee brewing and had reached out a batch of chicken soup from the freezer, which he had heating on the stove.

"Have a seat."

"Boss, its been a really long day, I think I'm just gonna hit the rack."

Gibbs reached into the cupboard to pull out a barrel of crackers and put some onto a large plate. Then he crossed the room and retrieved two large bowls from the plate rack.

"Wasn't a suggestion, DiNozzo."

Behind him he could almost hear Tony debating whether or not to point out that if he was on sick leave then technically Gibbs couldn't tell him what to do. The soft sigh, when Tony decided to give in worried him more than he wanted to admit. He didn't want DiNozzo feeling this defeated. He damn well needed him to fight. Ladling some soup into a bowl, he made sure he made eye contact as he placed it in front of the younger man.

"Eat something."

The gentle tone was the one Gibbs reserved for children, dogs and very sick Federal Agents. He had learnt early on that going toe to toe with DiNozzo when he was in this mood was the start of a downward spiral. The younger man would just absorb all the abuse and hug it to himself as if he deserved it.

Tony _knew_ how to fight.

When Gibbs had been wounded as a result of an FBI screw up, his new probie had told the Deputy Director of the Bureau to 'stick it'. When Gibbs put himself in danger Tony was always right there in his face, tearing him off a strip. When one of the other Agents had tried spreading malicious gossip about Ziva Tony had smiled brightly and put his arm around the man's shoulder, before whispering something in his ear that turned him pale with fear.

Tony fought for other people.

Gibbs remembered how ghoulish he had looked, bathed in that blue light; his lips and nose appearing almost back as cyanosis set in. His body shuddering with the effort of taking a single breathe. Kate had joked that Tony had lived simply because Gibbs had ordered him to. Gibbs knew better. His words had been a plea from the heart of a man who knew that death was not to be taken lightly, a Marine who had held fallen comrades in his arms as they bled out and a family man who had already buried his daughter and couldn't bear to lose the man he loved like a son.

Not to death.

And not to some bureaucratic bean counter that, in logging this latest absence had highlighted the amount of sick leave Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had accrued over the last fiscal year and sent his file to the Director with a red flag, questioning his fitness for field duty.

Tony needed to fight this. They both did.


	11. Chapter 11

Under Gibbs' steady gaze Tony managed most of the soup, his appetite sparking at the soothing rich flavours. Gibbs grunted in satisfaction at the almost empty his bowl before fishing the medication out of his pocket, checking the dosage and tipping two pills out, which he offered to Tony on his outstretched palm. They both recognised the same round yellow things he had had the last time. At this rate he'd start to build up immunity.

"Maybe you should just shoot me. Put us both out of my misery." Tony tried to joke.

"You don't take those pills, it might just happen."

"I remember the last time you shot me .." Tony baited, as he plucked the pills from Gibbs hand and tossed them down, making a face as he chased the bitter tablets with a large mouthful of water. "You ruined my Ralph Lauren shirt."

"It was one time, DiNozzo," Gibbs played along, even though this particular game was always more entertaining when they had an audience. Kate's reaction had been priceless. McGee's pure gold. Ziva, predictably, had just shrugged. "I shot you one time and I bought you a new shirt."

"From Sears."

"They had a two for one," Gibbs grinned. "Besides, it was just a graze. They didn't even admit you."

"You know, how many days I've spent in the Hospital since I joined NCIS?" Tony asked. "I mean, not counting side trips to the ER, or when I discharged myself AMA, or a quick once over from the EMTs at the crime scene?"

Gibbs chose not to answer that. He knew exactly how many and once would have been one time too many. He'd sent men into battle and watched friends bleed out in his arms but the day his gut didn't lurch of the sight of one of his people down, he'd damned well shoot himself.

"We're NCIS Agents. Danger comes with the territory."

"Which is why they only give us 13 days sick leave a year. As if being threatened by, guns, knives, biochemical weapons, international terrorist organisations, unexploded bombs and kooky chicks on a revenge kick during your average working day makes you immune to getting something like a common cold."

"There a point to this, DiNozzo?"

"C'mon Boss, we both know how Madame Director feels about me. Now I'm out of the loop it could be just the excuse she needs to bump Ziva up to acting senior field agent."

"She'd have to go through me first."

Tony looked up at him, his eyes dark with a frankness that few had managed and lived.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Gibbs pressed his lips together tightly. It was true that the Director had assigned Ziva to his team without consulting him. But the Israeli had only remained because Gibbs had allowed it and Jen knew it. If Shepherd even tried dropkicking DiNozzo into touch, she would find herself with one hell of a fight on her hands.

"Not going to happen."

"I've already exceeded my quota of sick leave," Tony argued. "My bi-annual assessment is due next month. If I don't pass that all she has to do is .."

"Hey!" Gibbs spoke sharply enough to cause DiNozzo to freeze and his eyes go wide. "I've spent the last three years getting you housebroken. I am not about to give up on you now because of some kooky chick on a revenge kick. You'll pass that assessment or you'll answer to me. You hear me?"

For the first time since he had been sent home, Tony relaxed slightly. If he weren't up to the job, Gibbs would be the first to tell him. If his Boss thought he could get through this, then maybe things weren't as bad as he'd feared.

"Kooky?" He raised a brow.

"Hey, I remember the seventies." Gibbs stood up and started to clear the table.

"You know, what they say about the seventies, Gibbs," They both looked over as the front door slammed and a familiar voice drifted through the hallway, shortly followed by Abby's appearance in the kitchen, juggling armfuls of colourful ice-cream cartons. "If you can remember them you weren't really there."

"Feeling a little peckish, Abs?" Gibbs grinned.

"Ducky said ice-cream would be better for Tony's sore throat. Pizza has all those scratchy edges. And sick people always get these weird cravings, so I wasn't sure what flavour he'd like, so I bought them all."

"Chunky Monkey?" Tony smiled, as he caught sight of his favourite.

"I'll get spoons," Abby twirled excitedly towards one of the drawers, extracting three spoons, handing one to Tony with a flourish as he cracked open the lid and peeled back the film.

"I do have bowls, you know," Gibbs tossed over his shoulder, as he went into the hallway and shrugged into his coat. Checking and stowing his weapon, he made his way back into the kitchen, to see that Abby had claimed a carton of her own and was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter. "And chairs?"

"We know." Abby licked her spoon.

"Where are you going, Boss?" Tony tipped his head at him.

"Out."

"But you're missing dessert!" Abby pouted.

He looked from one to the other, feeling exactly like a father disappointing his kids by ducking out on a family treat to rack up more overtime. Plucking the third spoon from the table he helped himself to a large mouthful of DiNozzo's ice cream, hiding his grin at the younger man's outraged expression as he slapped the spoon back down and headed towards the door.

"He needs his rest, Abs."


	12. Chapter 12

AN- Thanks so much for all the reviews. I especially appreciate your comments on the bits you enjoy! And thanks to Anonymous for the offer of help – people always tell me you should put commas where you would take a breath when talking and then they look at me funny. Can't think why! I'm not at home right now, life is keeping my away from my hard drive but I'll get back to you. Next update when I'm home on Sunday .. and something on Trial and Tribulations too.

AN2 - I'm still just right at the start of S3 and I'm basing this on spoilers I've read which indicate that Jen was kinda cool towards Tony in the beginning, so if you are viewing the close working relationship they seem to have developed after Gibbs' absence in S4 please don't shoot me! Oh and the physical requirements come from a handbook outlining requirements for NCIS personnel.

* * *

Gibbs didn't even pause to glance at Cynthia as he tossed her a curse "is she in?" before steaming past and striding into the Director's office, coming to a sharp halt in front of her desk.

"What the hell are you thinking?"

Shepherd looked up from her paperwork, without a trace of surprise. She had known he wouldn't take this well. Mentally straightening her backbone she forced herself to meet his gaze. No easy feat when the censure in his expression made her feel like a junior agent who had just made an elementary mistake. Still, she bristled slightly at his cavalier entry.

"I was thinking that this is my office and you could at least knock."

Too late, the dark fury that burned in his eyes reminded her that you didn't force an already very pissed Leroy Jethro Gibbs to observe the social niceties. Angrily, he swept the files off her desk and onto the floor before rapping the polished oak with his knuckles.

"DiNozzo's going to be fine. Thanks for asking."

"Jethro," She sighed, trying to use their personal relationship to mollify him. "You don't know that."

"The hell I don't."

"You really think he could manage a 1.5 mile run right now?"

"He doesn't have to. That's why they are called bi-annual assessments. And Tony's isn't due for another month. By then he'll be ready. You can count on it."

"What about his mandatory physical fitness? Every NCIS agent is expected to perform three hours of aerobic conditioning a week."

"Are you _looking_ for reasons to fire him?" Gibbs scowled.

Shepherd swallowed, she knew that it was irrational to be jealous of someone who had been with the Agency less than four years. DiNozzo wasn't even a GS-13. Yet she couldn't understand why someone as driven as Gibbs indulged his frat boy personality. According to her sources, the younger man played computer games in Agency time, used crime scenes as an excuse to improve his social life and spent the majority of office hours baiting his co-workers.

"Jethro, he plays Tetris in interrogation!"

"Whatever it takes," Gibbs reminded her. "You may not like his methods, but you gotta love the results."

"Seventeen visits to the ER in the last year alone?" Jen scoffed.

"Remind me how many of those were actually DiNozzo's fault? Most of the time, he gets himself out of trouble. And he saves lives in the process. Putting him behind a desk isn't in the best interest of this Agency or the service men and women and their families whom we are sworn to protect."

"You don't think that's a little melodramatic?"

"If you could put aside your own insecurities for one second Jen, you'd see that DiNozzo is a dammed good agent. The best I've ever worked with and that includes you."

The words stung. She had always prided herself on being Leroy Jethro Gibbs special protégé. Yet the brief passion of their affair didn't come close to the enduring affection she had observed between Gibbs and DiNozzo. The rational, professional part of her had to acknowledge that if Jethro figured he was worth nurturing, then there must be more too him meets the eye.

Still.

"He's that good?" She leant back.

Gibbs smiled, shaking his head slightly ruefully as he thought of his senior field agent. "He's almost as good as he'd like other people to think he is."

"Then," her smile was like ice. "He won't have any problem proving that he's up to the job."

* * *

Gibbs slammed the door of his car shut and strode into the house, the muted lighting in the hallway warning him to close the front door softly, before making his way into the lounge room. Abby was sitting on the couch, her head tipped back as she drummed her fingers on the arm in time to her Ipod, Tony was stretched out, under the comforter from the spare room, his legs curled up in a way that had to be uncomfortable, to make room for Abby, his head pillowed in her lap.

"Abs," He tapped her on the shoulder, before signing. "How is he?"

In a reflexive gesture, she pulled the head phones from her ears, before signing in return. "Not so good. He won't say it but he's scared Gibbs. I can see it in his eyes. He thinks he's gonna lose his job over this."

"Over my dead body," Gibbs murmured, crouching down so that he was at eye level with his senior field agent, noting the pale complexion and thin, sallow cheeks, his breath rattling through his chest as he struggled to wheeze in and out. He reached over and squeezed the younger man's shoulder, waiting until DiNozzo blinked, focused, and settled on him before speaking. "C'mon, DiNozzo. Up and at 'em."

"Gibbs," Tony coughed harshly as he swung his feet around. "You're back."

"Always said you were observant," Gibbs observed fondly, his senior field agent looked tousled and sounded more than a little groggy, he doubted he would even remember waking up in the morning. "C'mon, upstairs." He lifted Tony's arm around his neck and slipped his own arm around his back as he eased DiNozzo to his feet, before shuffling in the direction of the stairs. "You, staying Abs?" He tossed over his shoulder.

"Do you need me?" He could almost here Abby wringing her hands in worry. "I could boil water or something."

"He's sick Abs, not in labour," Gibbs smiled wryly, as he eased DiNozzo forward up the stairs, wracking his brain for something useful she could do. "There were some gifts on DiNozzo's coffee table. If you were going anywhere near his apartment, you could pass those out."

"Sure thing," She brightened. "There's a party I was going to on that side of town. I can go by Tony's on the way back and fetch those and anything else he needs."

"I already packed him a bag. He has everything he needs."

"Really?" He could hear the amusement in her voice, as she moved to stand at the foot of the stairs. "You pack his moisturiser?"

"Nope."

"Hair gel?"

"No."

"Condoms?"

"Abby."

"I'm just saying Gibbs, some people need more than a cup of coffee and a tube of Ben Gay before they can face the day."

"All DiNozzo's going to be doing for the next few days is eating, sleeping and watching TV. And before you ask, I already called McGee and asked him to call by and wire up whatever gizmos and doo-hickies Tony needs to make that entertainment system of his work here."

"So, just the gifts?" Abby pouted.

"Just the gifts."

He made it safely to the landing, shifting Tony's weight slightly, feeling the younger man's head loll comfortably onto his shoulder, a quick glance told him that his eyes were closed, trusting him absolutely to guide his steps. Gibbs allowed himself a small smile of pleasure, before turning to look back down at Abby as she stood, biting her lip.

"Something bothering you, Abs?"

"Tony's going to kill me," she signed rapidly. "But I really, really think you need to know this."


	13. Chapter 13

When Tony woke, the room was in darkness, a thin shaft of light spilling across the bed from the hallway. Shifted slightly, he felt the now familiar tightness in his throat and rolled onto his side to ease the pressure as his body succumbed to the need to cough, each painful spasm exacerbating his already pounding head. As he sank back in exhaustion, resting his head on his arm, he peered at the clock on the side table.

"1 am."

He had a vague memory of Gibbs helping him upstairs and asking him if he needed anything, before putting him into bed. He couldn't see his jeans or his sweat shirt, but his shoes were neatly tucked under a chair. He began to think he should invest in some pyjamas. In just his boxers and a T-shirt his whole body felt chilled and achy, his throat was parched and his need for a drink vied with the tell tale discomfort of his overly full bladder. Closing his eyes, Tony imagined himself getting up and going to the bathroom, before heading downstairs for a soothing cup of hot tea. Maybe, a couple of pills to take the edge off his headache and help him sleep.

All he had to do was get up.

Except, he wasn't sure where Gibbs was. He knew the ex-gunny would hear any sound and he felt awkward about disturbing him. Part of him wondered if there was a vase or a bowl he could pee in and go back to sleep, leaving the rest until the morning. But he'd never sleep unless he got something to drink. With a groan as the chill night air, bit through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, he levered himself upright and hanging onto the bed frame for support began to stagger in the direction of the bathroom across the hall.

Leaning one hip slightly on the wall, he attended to his bladder first, before bracing himself against the sink, to wash his hands and scoop up a couple of mouthfuls of clear, cool, liquid, all the while shivering so violently that his body actually shook. He was just checking the medicine cabinet to see if there were any Tyronel or anything, when he caught sight of Gibbs' in the mirror, standing in the doorway with an odd look on his face.

"Sorry, Boss. Didn't mean to wake you."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs started to say something, but then just shook his head, reaching around Tony to snag a large bottle of painkillers from the back of the cabinet, almost before he knew it, Tony had swallowed the pills, been dressed in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a warm sweatshirt and was sitting back in his bed sipping a large mug of hot tea, with Gibbs eying him over his coffee cup with the same weird look on his face.

"Something wrong, Boss?"

He thought he knew all of Gibbs' looks. He prided himself on being able to read the man pretty well. He knew when to make a wisecrack to lighten the mood, he knew when to shut up. He recognised when Gibbs needed someone to act as a sounding board, or when the man needed a kick up the ass. But this look was a new one on him.

"You couldn't just ask for help?"

Tony's eyes widened slightly, before he blinked in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting it wasn't that. He had watched Agents be transferred or just plain fired from Gibbs team because they couldn't think for themselves. The ex-gunny had little time for spoon feeding, he led by example and he expected his people to watch and keep up. Sure he rely on Gibbs if he needed a roof over his head when his boiler blew up, or some extra training, and there had been times when he had, gratefully, accepted the older man's help after he had been injured on the job. But he'd never asked. Not for something like that. Better to struggle on than risk the rejection.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"And you don't think this bothers me? "

Gibbs quiet words, hung in the room. Tony had to close his eyes against the soft rebuke. How many times did he have to be reminded that Gibbs wasn't his father? The man was tough and his standards were high, but all of his lessons served a purpose, were intended to make Tony a better Agent, a better person sometimes. He wasn't interested in making Tony a pawn in some game with his country club set.

"You should have told me, DiNozzo."

Tony swallowed hard at the stern tone, somehow he didn't think they were just talking about his need to get to the bathroom anymore.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Gibbs practically vibrated with anger as he followed his senior field agent down the stairs, watching as Tony struggled to shove his feet into first one shoe and then the other, his bare feet chafing against the leather, before reaching up and snagging his coat off the rack, only to have Gibbs snatch it out of his hand and hold it out of reach.

"Fine. I'll go without it." Tony said tightly, opening the front door, which Gibbs slammed shut with one hand, before planting himself in front of it

"Are you insane? Its below freezing out there."

"Then give me my coat." Tony demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his whole body radiating with defiance. This was his problem and he sure as hell wasn't going to drag any of his friends down with him. Especially, not Gibbs.

"Sure," Gibbs nodded. "When hell freezes over. Get in the lounge."

"I'm on sick leave. You can't tell me what to do."

"While you're under my roof I can."

The words were instinctive, only when he saw the way Tony's eyes went flat and hard did he realise his mistake. Not for the first time he wished for five minutes alone in a room with Tony's father. Between his rigid expectations and neglect bordering on child abuse, the man seemed to have no clue about raising a child right.

"Tony, .. _please_."

DiNozzo blinked, then nodded his head, before making his way into the lounge room and reclaiming his earlier place on the couch still looking dangerously mutinous. Taking a risk, Gibbs ran upstairs two at a time and returned with the comforter from the spare room, pretending not to notice the slightly guiltily look of gratitude that DiNozzo threw at him as he dropped it around his legs.

"I'd already spoken to the Director." He absolved Abby.

"Oh," Tony looked down, plucking at a thread on the comforter. "Then I guess you know everything."

"I don't know why _you_ didn't tell me. Did you really think I would just stand by and let her sideline you like that?" Gibbs didn't give him a chance to answer. "I already told her that if she goes ahead with this, she'll be down more than one field Agent."

"C'mon Boss, you love this job. You're not going to retire."

"I love other things more."

"Gibbs, you can't tell me you're quitting to spend more time with your dammed boat. You burned the last one, remember?"

"Are you _trying_ to get me to smack you?" Gibbs said, exasperated.

Tony frowned at him, lack of comprehension written all over his face, before the penny suddenly dropped and two pink spots of pleasure blossomed in his cheeks, as he gave a shy grin.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Gibbs gave him a tolerant smile as he turned away and headed towards the kitchen. He definately needed coffee.

"No, look Boss," Tony gathered himself up, clutching the comforter around his shoulders as he followed Gibbs into the warmly lit kitchen, hovering in the doorway as he watched his Boss fill a large ceramic mug from the coffee machine. "You can't walk just because of me. I mean, do you have any idea how many lives you've saved since you've been with the Agency?"

"Not a clue," Gibbs took a swallow, relishing the rich, chickaree flavour. "How many?"

"I don't know! But it has to be a lot," Tony insisted. "This is my problem. I'll handle it."

"Its not just your problem," Gibbs argued. "This isn't like asking Abby to wear a suit, a policy like this affects the way the whole Agency is run."

"The whole Agency, huh?" Tony mused, tipping his head on one side.

Gibbs gave his senior field Agent a searching look. Tony looked pale and tired, but his eyes burned with a glimmer of mischief. Used to his subordinate's sometimes-unorthodox approach to the apparently unsolvable, he decided it couldn't hurt to give Shepherd a practical demonstration of the DiNozzo method.

"You have something in mind?"


	14. Chapter 14

AN - As it does seem a little odd to still be writing a Christmas story in February, I thought I'd finish this one up! Also, I have made progress on "Trial" so an update on that coming very soon. Many thanks for your reviews and encouragement. On the days when its especially hard to juggle writing and life, it is heartening to have your company.

* * *

First thing the next morning Jenny Shepherd settled herself at her desk and moved to turn on her computer, when a single white envelope, addressed in a familiar hand caught her eye, tearing it open her eyes scanned the brief, formal lines of flowing ink with growing surprise.

"Well, I never, you actually went and did it, Jethro."

Smirking over what she was sure was nothing but a bluff, she leant back in her chair and was considering how exactly she was going to play this when there was a knock at her door and a somewhat harassed looking Cynthia appeared.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I don't know what else to do with them. They just keep on coming."

"Do with what?" Jen frowned.

In answer, Cynthia towed a mail cart, piled high with identical white envelopes. Picking one at random, the Director tore it open and scanned its contents, tossing it aside to look at the next and the next. Most of them were from the Washington Office, she recognised Abby Scutio's purple ink and Timothy McGee's precise typescript, but there were others, Cassie Yates from Norfolk, Paula Cassidy from Gitmo, even Agents afloat like Stan Burley had sent in their resignations. Jenny sank into her chair, sick to her stomach, she couldn't possibly run an Agency if the staff decided to resign en masse.

"I do beg your pardon," Dr Mallard's voice jerked her head upright as he hovered in the doorway. "I'm afraid I'm a little tardy. My mother had one of her turns last night and when I finally got to the office poor Seaman Bradshaw was waiting for my attentions, so I couldn't deliver this as early as I'd planned."

He offered her a plain white envelope.

"I didn't think blackmail was your style, Ducky."

"Oh, its not like that at all, my dear, " Ducky soothed. "Its simply that none of us wish to work for an Agency where the demands of the pen pushers take precedent over the human equation. If you took a little time to really get to know young Anthony, you would soon discover why he inspires such loyalty and affection in his co-workers."

"Including Jethro?"

"Especially Jethro. I do believe he sees a lot of himself in Tony."

"Jethro never had the plague," Shepherd countered. "Not to mention the number of hospital stays and visits to the ER that Special Agent DiNozzo has accumulated over his NCIS career."

"From which he has always recovered his fitness to statuary levels. You know as well as I do that if he was unfit for duty, Jethro would be the first to tell him. Granted, sometimes Anthony puts himself a little in harm's way, but only to serve a greater good."

"This Agency doesn't need heroes, Dr Mallard. Too much bravado gets innocent people killed."

"You've only been in post a relatively short time," Ducky excused her. "I wonder if you have taken the time to read Special Agent DiNozzo's file from Baltimore? It might explain a few things."

She sighed. She didn't want to ask the question but she figured he was one of the few people who would actually know the answer.

"Is Jethro serious about resigning over this?"

"Oh yes, indeed," Ducky looked surprised she would even ask "We all are."

* * *

Sipping cautiously at a mug of hot tea, Tony didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, when the Director called Gibbs first. Easily reading his expression, Gibbs cuffed him lightly on the back of the head before he picked up. Which meant he should be pleased, Tony decided. Any plan considered worthy of Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a plan to be proud of. He listened as his Boss spoke briefly to Shepherd, before clicking his phone shut with a decisive snap.

"She's gonna call you."

"She's pissed, right?" Tony was suddenly nervous. He'd slept only fitfully, as bouts of coughing deprived him of the rest he so desperately needed, his head was still pounding, his throat hurt, his chest felt tight and he had either just made one of the smartest moves of his career or brought his future in law enforcement to a shuddering halt.

"Pretty much," The proud grin that Gibbs flashed in his direction was almost worth loosing job for. As his phone started to trill, his Boss walked past him, reaching out to stroke him on the back of his head. "Atta boy."

As Tony picked up his phone, his soft, pleased, smile lit up his face, although none of his smugness leaked into his voice as he answered.

"DiNozzo."

"Working for NCIS is not a popularity contest, Agent DiNozzo," Shepherd's tone was clipped. "What exactly were you trying to achieve?"

"Just trying to keep my job, Ma,am." Tony offered, without a trace of sarcasm.

"Well, as the person responsible for keeping you in employment, let me tell you, you have an interesting way of showing it."

"When I was a kid, I used to get punished for sneaking leftovers out of the refrigerator. Pretty soon I realised that if I ate half the pizza or a couple of pieces of the fried chicken I was gonna get caught. But if I ate the whole thing and washed the dish up afterwards, the missing food became someone else's problem."

"I see," Jen said dryly. Tony had taken her ultimatum to take a desk job or resign and turned it on its head. Right now, he was the only field Agent at the Washington office who hadn't tendered his resignation. She couldn't help but acknowledge that, even when he was officially too sick to work, there was more to the frat boy, office comedian than met the eye. As usual, it seemed that Jethro had a point. "How did you get all those people to lay their jobs on the line for you?"

"I smiled."

She almost smiled in her turn. Instead, she forced her tone to remain brisk and business like. "The physical requirements for an NCIS field Agent are mandatory, Agent DiNozzo, if you fail your bi-annual assessment, I'll have no choice but to pull your active status."

"Understood, Ma'am."

"In the meantime," she sighed. "I understand that there are a number of people willing to donate time to cover your outstanding sick leave. In fact, you could probably manage a week in Palm Beach."

She took the brief silence as a signal that he wasn't sure how to take that. Good. She was still the Director after all, it wouldn't do for him to think he had entirely out smarted her. But she couldn't fault his eventual response.

"I'd rather just do my job, ma'am."

"Then I'll see you in a week, Agent DiNozzo," Jenny allowed. "Don't be late."


	15. Chapter 15

Tony stretched lazily, luxuriating in the feel of the soft cotton sheets, the firm mattress and the soft feather pillow, as he wriggled his toes under the comforter and entertained himself with the thought that there was nothing more pressing demanding his attention than the occasional trip to the bathroom.

"You better have a good reason, why you're not asleep." Gibbs noted as he stood in the doorway.

"I woke up?"

Wordlessly, Gibbs came over to stand beside the bed, reaching out and laying his palm across Tony's forehead, checking for fever, grunting with satisfaction, before he perched on the edge of the mattress, eying him closely.

"You feel up to some real food?"

With a start, Tony realised that he did feel better. He hadn't woken up, hacking up a lung for one and his headache was almost gone. Turning his head, he wasn't entirely surprised to see it was almost 21.00. He remembered Gibbs' waking him from time to time to eat some soup or fruit jello and take his medication and a couple of trips to the head, but the rest of the day was a blank.

"Sorry," He shrugged sheepishly. "I haven't been very good company."

"You've been asleep for almost thirty-six hours. I'd say you needed the rest." Gibbs stood up.

"Thirty six?" Tony sat up, coughing harshly once or twice, before spluttering with indignation. "I slept through Christmas?"

"Still Christmas for another three hours," Gibbs grinned at his dismay, as he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out some clean sweats and a thick, towelling dressing gown. "Get washed up, dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes."

"You haven't eaten yet?" Tony was surprised. Gibbs gave him a 'look' that said clearly he had said something boneheaded. Tony wasn't exactly sure what it was, but he figured he could milk his sick person status a little, with a slightly theatrical cough he eased himself out of bed, making his voice a little hoarse, as he passed within head slapping range. "I'll just go wash up then, Boss."

Thirty minutes gave him enough time for a bath, the blissful hot water easing out the last of his muscle cramps as the warm steam soothed his breathing. As he towelled himself dry the smell of rich, warm, cooking, prodded his stomach into life, as his mouth started to water. Rubbing at his hair, he took a few minutes to dry it off with the hairdryer, before heading eagerly down to the kitchen.

"You want anything to drink?" Gibbs asked, as he put the final dish on the table.

"Beer?" Tony asked hopefully.

Gibbs gave him an assessing look, before reaching into the refrigerator and extracting two bottles, flipping the tops off, before pouring them out into two glasses. Inclining his glass in a salute, Tony took a grateful swallow, feeling the fresh, sharp taste trickle down his throat in a blissful feeling of normalcy. Regretfully, he put the glass down, determined to savour it. Even though his medication didn't expressly forbid alcohol, he doubted Gibbs would allow him more than one.

"Eat up, before it gets cold."

Sinking into his seat, Tony grinned at the plates of fluffy, biscuits, soft mounds of mashed potatoes, rich, thick gravy, carrots glazed in honey and peas topped with mint, alongside tender white turkey breasts. As he piled his plate high, he couldn't help but contrast the warm, welcoming, kitchen, with the stiff, formal meals of his childhood, when his father always insisted on trying to poison him with a large spoonful of sprouts.

"You got any ketchup, Boss?"

He expected a head slap, instead Gibbs tipped his head on one side, regarding the younger man with tolerant amusement. Rising to his feet, his boss reached out a large bottle of ketchup, pausing to ruffle his senior field Agent's hair, before placing it on the table. Grinning openly, at the younger man's wary expression at the open affection, Gibbs dug into his own meal with enthusiasm, as he recalled the ghost of a little girl, her forehead creased in concentration as she emptied the last of the ketchup bottle over her Christmas dinner.

* * *

Tony had helped clear the table and stack the plates in the dishwasher, before he visibly started to flag. Dismissing him to the couch, Gibbs smiled at the muted sound of the TV as he finished cleaning up. Carrying his coffee through, he wasn't surprised to see DiNozzo dozing, his head lolling sideways, as he snored softly. He moved forward, intent on claiming the recliner, when he noticed the medium sized box on the coffee table, with his name written in overly large letters on the attached tag.

"Funny, DiNozzo."

With a rueful smile, Gibbs picked up the box and gave it an explorative shake. It was heavier than he expected and shifted only slightly, as if it had been well packed. It wasn't a bottle of Jack. Or another box of honey dust. Curious now he ripped open the paper to reveal a plain brown box. Lifting the flaps, he stared down, a grin of genuine appreciation lighting up his features.

"I found it when I was interviewing that guy on the Forsyth case," Tony's spoke without a hint of sleep as he looked at Gibbs. "The case was pretty dirty, but it cleaned it up nice and the workings were as good as new. I mean, I know you need GPS and stuff these days, but I thought maybe you could make a feature of it or something."

"Oh, this is meant to be used," Gibbs spoke in a suitably reverent tone as he lifted the old fashioned brass ship's compass out of the box, lifting it up so he could look at it from every angle, as the light played across its surface. "It's a beauty."

"Well," Tony sounded both pleased and a little bashful. "You've done a pretty good job of steering me through life. I just figured .."

Gibbs looked up as DiNozzo trailed off uncertainly. In the beginning their gifts had been unsentimental and practical, a bottle of Jack, or a quality knife. In the five years that he had worked with Stan Burley, they had never got past that. But Burley had had a wife and a family and a whole other life. Gradually, Gibbs had come to recognise in Tony a loneliness that threatened to consume him. If Burley's boiler had blown up, he would have booked himself into a Hotel, not come running to his Boss for a roof over his head. He'd told Ducky once was DiNozzo was too old to adopt. But he wasn't sure either of them really believed it.

"Turned out pretty well." Gibbs grinned.

Tony frowned slightly, as Gibbs straightened up and crossed over to the sideboard, not entirely sure if his Boss was referring to the refurbishment project or his senior field Agent. With a grin, Gibbs pulled out a small, well worn leather box, the gilt lettering worn to illegibility. Tony's expression was questioning, as he opened up the lid, to reveal an expensive dress watch.

"It belonged to my paternal grandfather," Gibbs was talking. "Just about the only thing of value he ever owned. Thing like that should be worn. And I wanted to keep it in the family."

"Boss," Tony ran a revenant thumb across the thick crystal face, for once at a loss for words. The strap had been replaced with soft new leather and the watch had obviously been recently cleaned, its glass and metal sparkling under the lights. There was no doubting its quality and craftsmanship. He was pretty sure Cary Grant used to have a watch like this. "What if ..?"

Gibbs shook his head, he knew what Tony was going to say. But he thought it was unlikely that he would ever have a son, or even a son-in-law. He had already had three disastrous attempts at recapturing the happiness he'd felt with Shannon and Kelly. He couldn't imagine ever going down that route again. Besides, it wouldn't change how he felt about DiNozzo and he didn't want the younger man thinking he had only got it by default.

"Just take the dammed thing."

Tony looked up, a small smile, hovering around his lips as he met Gibbs eyes. They grinned at each other in a moment of perfect accord.

"Merry Christmas, Boss."


End file.
